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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248693">warm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcetineys/pseuds/calcetineys'>calcetineys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, i don't even know fam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:53:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcetineys/pseuds/calcetineys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What they have is not warm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>warm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Aren’t you cold?”</p><p>He is. He watches his breath turn white, watches it dissipate in the night air, not making it much farther than the window frame.
</p><p>And then there’s heat as Theo presses his hands onto his forearms, presses his chest against Stiles’ back. 
</p><p>It doesn’t ease the chill. The heat and the cold don't meld into something softer. He feels both as clearly as ever, and it unsettles his stomach. Like he’s sick and his body sweats and shivers all at once.
</p><p>“You could come back to bed,” Theo suggests.
</p><p>Yes, he could go back to bed, where Theo would hold him tight and, if he wanted, would kiss him and touch him and make him forget what the cold felt like. 
</p><p>“I’ll be in in a while,” he says, and he is both surprised and not when Theo leaves him be.
</p><p>He watches his breath turn white.
</p><p>-
</p><p>Theo runs hot. That’s the way his body was built, the way his mind works, the way his heart reacts to Stiles.
</p><p>Stiles has known nothing but heat since this started, and even since before that. 
</p><p>It’s what he expected. It’s part of the reason he let it happen.
</p><p>He let that heat seep into him, and he wouldn’t say it warmed him, and he wouldn’t say it burned him. 
</p><p>He would say it is something he could handle for a very long time.
</p><p>But he doesn’t think other people could, or would want to.
</p><p>-
</p><p>Theo has Stiles laid out for him, in every sense of the word. His body in his bed, his mind in his understanding, and the grip he has <em>should</em> burn.
</p><p>Stiles thinks he shouldn’t like it so much.
</p><p>He wonders if he should be growing tired. He could handle the unrelenting nature of Theo’s attention, but that doesn’t mean he has to.
</p><p>He could want for something else. Something of moderation, of variety. Something with shades of color. Something that is sometimes warm. 
</p><p>Love is warm.
</p><p>What they have is not warm.</p>
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